Conquest and Confrontations
by The Hidden
Summary: Kind of off in the future. This is me basicaly taking Kishimotos world, and doing my own thing in it. Im rating it 18 M I guess because its going to be rather vulgar. So sue me. I'll follow some elements true tot he story, but if out of charchter things


The mood in the hall was sullen. Expressionless looks danced from one set of eyes to the next. The occasion which had gathered this mass of the elite had weighed down the evening with an imminent threat: war. The last thing the countries needed was another war. Unfortunately, the act that was committed could surely lead to this one conclusion.

The old sage walked from the door-way. Time had surely striped her of her physical prowess, but a beauty still emulated from her: one which attracted you with her wisdom, rather then her radiance. She moved slowly and cautiously through the isles of people, until she reached the front of the assembly. Without turning, she cleared her throat and began. Her voice rang clear throughout the hall, even though her back stared down the multitude of despairing faces:

"Councilmen, councilwomen, and elders" her voice was slow, and calculating, "the events of the last few days have brought many emotions to our village; some even an old woman as my rank cannot contain. It looks despairingly hopeless; our situation, but rash actions and misguided judgments are the last activities we need take part in." She finally turned to face the crowd. Her eyes, half shut, her face worn. She had not slept a wink since the time of the incident. She looked over the crowd, in the back over to the right, a larger man stirred. He got up and made his way for the door, some others around him and on the far left, also moved towards it.

"Gentlemen" she began, "why do you walk out, in the middle of this meeting? Surely nothing else can be of so much importance, that you must all feel the need to leave?"

The leading man turned and faced her; his blank face was only deceived by his eyes, which raged.

"Old woman" he spat, "now is not the time for elaborate speeches. Now is the time for action! We can't sit by, while the villainous scum retreat throughout the country side unchallenged. When they cross the border, we will have no jurisdiction, and prosecution of their wrong-doings will not be enforceable!" He made once more for the door. The Old Woman, cleared her throat once more, and began to challenge him;

"Master Akmichi, surely I know and understand your feelings, I have felt them too. I was close to this man we called Hokage, just as much as you. He was our champion, but rash actions will not bring resolution to this situation. I have talked with the Raikage, and he has agreed to investigate this matter fully-" the large man fumed with hate:

"You blind, naïve hag!" he snarled, walking towards her, "Have you developed such dementia in your unnaturally old age that you cannot see this situation is slipping through your fingers like water? Or have you simply grown complacent waiting for your over-due retirement that you place so much faith in people you know so little about? I haven't, and I won't let your short-sightedness be the undoing of this village. We are the elite protectors of this state, and all our members stand at my back. We are tracking these criminals already, and I will personally enforce a deserved, righteous, and fatal justice on them. The accusations against them require swift retribution, and certainly not the back-handed due process that is much too influenced by the political game!"

A man stood up, a taller man, but one much skinnier then the man called Akmichi;

"Your family roots are truly shinning now. Just like your father, you are short tempered and without logical thought process! You are a buffoon to think you have the right to suffer some type of justice onto these people. You have no proof of their crimes!" The man was cut-off in mid sentence; the larger man had crossed the hall and met him face to face, while at the same time planting a fist in the skinny mans stomach.

"You rabid-mouthed defected scarecrow-like abomination to the human race; I will not tolerate such sympathy for criminals! I will also surely not tolerate any more proceedings in your corrupted court rooms! We all know here, but not all have the gall to admit it, that you had a hand in this. So help me god, if you interfere with me in anyway I will erase you as I have so many others," he growled, moving his face closer to the other mans, residue from the large mans breath collecting on the skinnier mans cheek, "And not even the people gathered here today will bear witness to your person. Do not test me Ebisu. For you will experience fully that which is the power of the ANBU." With that, the larger man tossed Ebisu back into his seat, and stormed for the door. The larger man and his procession left the hall, with a slam of the door that shook dust from the walls on the other side of the room. The older woman looked despairingly around the room, faces now confused, angered, and fearful. A murmur at the back of the room had erupted into a huge discussion; or possibly an argument. The one thing that was certain, was that the point of the meeting; unity of the country, had come to a fatal end. This was not the end she had wanted, but one she knew would likely come. She slipped out the back way.

She walked into the old tower. She hadn't been in this place in well over a decade, or was it two? Had she really grown complacent with the wait? Had her sense become sterile? She had only one option; the postage bird, a beautiful bald eagle. It served only one purpose in its time, and that was communication between her and a party that had disappeared long ago; one that had all but been erased in the minds of most villagers. The younger villagers would not even recognize these people, if they met face to face. The older villagers would surely avoid them. The middle aged however, would welcome them with open arms. She quickly scribbled a note on some parchment. She attached it to the bird, and knowingly it set off. Far to the east, beyond the vast mountainous border, and through a seemingly endless forest it would travel; to a place of the utmost peace, where deep in a monastery lie the darkest pit; the remains of a shattered soul, and his keeper…

The rain spattered along the ground outside. The young man, in his late mid 30's starred at a solemn tombstone; it still felt so unnatural. When a normal person would mourn, he would feel nothing. Almost as if he regretted more the empty feeling inside him, then the death of his teacher. He had spent almost a decade here. He had not seen any of the people he once called friends. He had not seen any of the people he once called enemies. He thought that even then, he could not really see them. Something had always obscured his view. Once, in his naivety he had a goal; a dream. Now, in his knowledge, he realized all he had was doubt. He came here, to rid himself of his obstruction. Instead, he was emptied of all emotional distractions.

Physically, it seemed impossible for him to be in better form. Yet, normal tasks seemed a great burden. He struggled with the arduous meanderings of normal life. He hated the patterns. He desperately wanted to break free of them, but his drained emotional self could not inspire his person to do so. And so his time seemed to be slipping away here. The one benefit of coming here had been the containment of his burden; the key factor in his being blinded in all those years of turmoil. The reason he had no one to call friend, and no one to accurse as an enemy. Without the emotional attachment, the overbearing force could not take control. Without the emotional attachment, however, he lacked emotional control, and had rendered his emotions useless. He found himself confused, and dysfunctional in the most complacent situations. He needed a break.

And then, did it come? The bird was back. That bald eagle, he could hear it calling. He approached the entrance of the crypt, and walked outside; the weather had cleared up. The bird, perched on a nearby statuette, held its right foot high; a note tied to it. The man reached fro the note and opened it:

_Jirayia, please come at your earliest convenience. I don't know how your progress is going, in controlling the demon, but we need the both of you (hopefully) here as soon as possible. The situation is beyond desperate. _

_The Godaime Hokage_

"The situation is beyond desperate" he repeated back to himself. Could this be the change of pace he needed? What service could he be of anyways; the "Godaime Hokage"? Surely there cannot be a Godaime, with the Rokudaime around? Or is it that the Rokudaime is not around? Was he killed? Has he run away? Surely he wouldn't run. The man remembers him as never being one to run.

Should he go? Was he ready? Should he not stay here, for his own safety, and for that of his comrades; were his comrades' alive still? Was his former teacher alive, or dead? Should curiosity get the best of him, he thought, he should go run an inventory of supplies. If he was to travel that far, he would need to be well equipped, but the seeming urgency of the situation would require him to travel light… Or should he avoid these thoughts? Are these not emotions? Will they not hinder further progress, and reverse all he has been working on?

The man sat down, his face in his hands. He was not crying; tears had broken the seal he had built in many years. He didn't feel these feelings anymore. What he felt was confusion; confusion, and frustration. He needed desperately to reach out, but his mind was telling him not too; stay away! Steer clear of these thoughts! They won't help you control it!

Had only Jirayia been around to tell him what to do…

Conquest and Confrontation:

Well then, sorry you had to read through that to get to the description! Here is how the story is set up:

First things first: I am not going to make Naruto some uber-mensch-super-God-Ninja. That brings about a boring story. Although the beginning may seem to point to that, I don't plan on it. The Fire Country is clearly just calling in all the support it can. I mean hell, I would too. Look at it; they are foked. They just lost a Hokage apparently! You'd do the same, and you know it!

I'm going to draw on the events going on now in the manga, and obvisouly put my own ideas in as well. This is obvisouly somewhere far off in the future. Maybe if I ever get REALLY bored, ill do side stories explaining that big ass time skip I created.

The premise: basically, something awful happened between the Fire and Lightning countries, and the shits (seemingly) about to hit the fan. I don't care for pairings much, so don't suggest them. If they happen they happen. I'm doing this, because I have a general interest in story telling, and plan on one day writing my own novel. And I quite like the universe Kishimoto created, so I will borrow from it. I consider this like a creative writing project. I will borrow from his timeline and story, but try to make it as far from his as possible. So, you'll probably get a lot of "out of character" stuff. If that's not your thing: cry me a river, build a bridge, grab some rope, and hang yourself over it. :D That's just how I write.

Welll enjoy, if you can. And If I offend anyone; there is a reason I am rating this 18+; Language, and my cruel sarcasm. Sorry.


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